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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29207061">Shattered Hearts, Fading Embers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeChewChew/pseuds/MeChewChew'>MeChewChew</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Crying, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers to Enemies, Getting Together, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Tempering (Final Fantasy XIV), vague timeline</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:47:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,710</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29207061</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeChewChew/pseuds/MeChewChew</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A blazing flame, bright as the sun itself, extinguished like a candle.</p><p>Zephirin and Haurchefant. From friends, to lovers, to tragedy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Haurchefant Greystone/Zephirin de Valhourdin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Shattered Hearts, Fading Embers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It starts as suddenly as it ends.</p><p>A blazing flame, bright as the sun itself, extinguished like a candle.</p><p>Quick. Instantaneous. Leaving only a fading ember and a trail of smoke to remind those that it had once been lit.</p><p>-</p><p>Zephirin meets him midway through his apprenticeship as a knight.</p><p>He sits by himself in the corner of the dining hall, staring at the empty tray in front of him. His expression remains neutral, he wills his arms to stop shaking, and nibbles on the morsel of bread squeezed between his fingers.</p><p>He is young. He is slim. The other apprentices, older and bigger, make sure to show him how they feel about him being amongst their ranks on a weekly basis.</p><p>He never fights back. Doesn’t want to steep to their low level. He’ll show them in a few years time, when he rises above them in rank, title, and deeds. But for now, he will not stir trouble and risk a bad reputation.</p><p>He blinks and suddenly a mirror apple sits in front of him. His gaze trails up from the hand holding it to a chainmail sleeve, a pauldron on a shoulder, notes the symbol of House Fortemps sitting on his chest, and looks up – far up – to see a shockingly bright head of hair.</p><p>Yet, it is none of these features that make Zephirin’s eyes widen just the slightest. The smile resting upon this young knight’s lips is the brightest he’s ever seen, nearly blinding, like a flame that has just roared.</p><p>His words escape him, leaving his mouth open speechlessly.</p><p>“Haurchefant,” the knight is so kind to offer, “Haurchefant Greystone.”</p><p>
  <em>Ah.</em>
</p><p>A bastard, then.</p><p>The bastard of House Fortemps, if memory serves him correct.</p><p>Zephirin still hasn’t taken the fruit and Haurchefant takes it upon himself to place his tray on the table beside him and plop himself down, putting the mirror apple on the blond’s tray.</p><p>“I do not need your pity.” Zephirin says, eyes peering from the fruit back to Haurchefant’s gleaming face.</p><p>The other apprentice simply laughs and shakes his head. “’Tis not an offering of pity, my friend. I am simply sharing the fruits of my labor out in the field today!”</p><p>He must see the dumbfounded look on Zephirin’s face and Haurchefant reiterates himself. “The highlands are the perfect place for mirror apples to grow. I make it a point to collect some each time I am assigned parole there. This time, I simply have too many and it would be a waste to let spoil. So, I am sharing the wealth, my friend.”</p><p>“This is our first meeting,” Zephirin says dryly.</p><p>“T’would not be our last,” Haurchefant smiles back, spooning a slice of boar meat onto Zephirin’s tray.</p><p>“Now eat up,” he smirks, “or you will remain small!”</p><p>Zephirin groans.</p><p>-</p><p>He normally abstains from drinking, but Haurchefant is nothing but persuasive. ‘Just one drink,’ the other knight had said, ‘it is my name day after all.’</p><p>And Zephirin can’t say no when Haurchefant looks down at him with those pleading eyes. Down. One day he will be taller, if not the same height. He promises that much to himself.</p><p>Luckily, or, unluckily, for him, Zephirin agrees to a drink and Haurchefant finds himself with an armful of his friend only one drink in.</p><p>He reprimands himself for not thinking ahead when clearly Zephirin does not indulge with their fellow knights at the taverns. With careful movement, he sits Zephirin back against a chair and kneels down. A huff and a heave later, the other knight is on his back and they’re out into the cold streets of Ishgard.</p><p>Zephirin’s forehead is hot against his neck and Haurchefant tries to get his attention, to check on him. The smaller knight groans and Haurchefant chuckles as he treks them back to the barracks.</p><p>Haurchefant surprises himself when he gets them into Zephirin’s room without an incident (although the door was a tad tricky). He squats down and lets Zephirin plop onto the bed inelegantly. He sits on one leg beside him and pushes him up to sit, holding a glass of water. Zephirin turns away at first, the barest hints of a pout on his lips.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“You must,” Haurchefant presses the glass against him insistently.</p><p>Zephirin lets out a quiet whine and Haurchefant raises his brows, a smile creeping across his face.</p><p><em>Adorable</em>, he allows himself to think, not that he hadn’t thought it upon their first meeting, but Zephirin’s prickly demeanor is a strong guard against such thoughts. Despite the blond being older than him by just a year and accompanied by his grand reputation, Haurchefant has never been intimidated by his friend. How could he, when Zephirin barely meets his nose in height?</p><p>
  <em>It’s the perfect height to kiss his forehe-</em>
</p><p>He cuts the thought off and insistently pushes the glass against Zephirin’s lips once more.</p><p>“Come, my friend, you will regret it come morning should you not drink now,” Haurchefant coaxes him.</p><p>Zephirin mumbles and Haurchefant leans closer.</p><p>Bleary green eyes meet his and a small smirk graces those lips, “if you come to church with me tomorrow.”</p><p>Haurchefant sighs.</p><p>-</p><p>“A knight lives to serve,” Haurchefant announces frequently, “to aid those in need.” And Zephirin agrees with him each time, uses it as a reminder to himself despite his already unwavering morals.</p><p>Just like Haurchefant, just like any proper knight, Zephirin has vowed to himself to serve Ishgard and her people, to protect them and help guide them to a better future.</p><p>Everything he does, everything he will do, <em>everything he is</em>, will be for Ishgard.</p><p>Always.</p><p>But, he thinks to himself, this same conviction is why Haurchefant finds himself flittering to those who have disadvantages in life. How Haurchefant had come to befriend him, how Haurchefant had now come to befriend the supposed Archbishop’s bastard, Aymeric de Borel, and the orphan whom the previous Azure Dragoon took in, Estinien Bale.</p><p>Zephirin does not get along with them completely, as much as Haurchefant tries. Aymeric is talented, has the same potential Zephirin sees in himself, and he comes to think of him as a sort of rival. But Zephirin has been with the knights longer. Younger. At some point, Zephirin wins and Haurchefant stops trying to combine their groups together.</p><p>Funny how victory feels so lonely.</p><p>More often than not, Haurchefant is placed into a squadron with the two and Zephirin into another. This should be a good thing, he thinks, that he is placed into a more advanced group, but on nights when the wind is especially biting and he is forced to share a tent with someone else, he finds his thoughts turning to the warmth of Haurchefant’s smile, the heat that escaped through his clothes that night he was carried back to his bedroom.</p><p>There’s something budding in his chest and he squashes it down, but the seed has been ever resilient since the day it was planted in his heart.</p><p>He thinks of the tales Haurchefant might bring back to him about his merry adventures with his two other friends and a searing heat erupts through his chest. He doesn’t think any further and closes his eyes, empties his mind, and lets the darkness overtake him until he wakes the next morn.</p><p>-</p><p>It’s sudden.</p><p>No.</p><p>He had been pretending not to see it.</p><p>But tonight is special. Tonight, they had all been promoted. Estinien will be sent to the dragoons, Aymeric and Zephirin to be second-in-commands within the Temple Knights, and Haurchefant to apprentice at Camp Dragonhead.</p><p>In what should be a night of celebration, a night where Zephirin claims victory to all those who said he couldn’t, he finds a sadness seeping into his chest at the thought of his friend…<em>his dear friend</em>, leaving him. Camp Dragonhead is right against Ishgard and Zephirin has no reason to be in such pain when Haurchefant will just be outside the gate.</p><p>And yet.</p><p>Haurchefant brings a hot cocoa in his room, away from the masses celebrating in the tavern, and sits beside him on the floor in front of the small hearth.</p><p>Tomorrow, he will move to a bigger room befitting his position.</p><p>Tomorrow, Haurchefant will move to Camp Dragonhead.</p><p>Tonight,</p><p>Tonight…</p><p>Tonight.</p><p>Zephirin turns his head, opens his mouth only for words to escape his mind as his nose nearly collides with Haurchefant’s. He recoils out of habit and Haurchefant smiles at him teasingly with a tinge of bitterness at the edge of his lips.</p><p>“We are the same height now,” Haurchefant notes.</p><p>Zephirin nods, tries to control the flush that burst onto his cheeks a moment ago.</p><p>“The perfect height for me to kiss you.”</p><p>“What-”</p><p>Haurchefant’s lips meet his and Zephirin needn’t worry about controlling the blush on his face anymore. His eyes flutter closed for just a moment and open again when Haurchefant pulls away, only to smile warmly when Zephirin leans towards him again.</p><p>Before he can sort out his mess of a mind, Haurchefant scoops him up and lays him on the bed before getting on all fours and hovering over him. A brief question graces his face and Zephirin answers him by lifting his arms up to squeeze at his shoulders hesitantly.</p><p>“This is your first kiss, my dear?” Haurchefant asks softly, nuzzles his nose against the hollow of Zephirin’s cheek.</p><p>
  <em>My dear.</em>
</p><p>The words wrap around his heart, ingrain themselves into it like thorns from a budding rose, until he’s suffocated by it. Only then does he reply with a quiet yes, comes to fully wrap his arms around Haurchefant’s neck, shaking slightly from the weight of his emotions.</p><p>“And would you like another?” Haurchefant whispers, ever so patient and gentle.</p><p>Zephirin feels like he would drown if Haurchefant doesn’t do it again and gives a minute nod, feels the way Haurchefant smiles against his cheek.</p><p>And then he’s swept away once more, mouth against his and a tongue swiping between the seam until Zephirin shyly parts his lips. It’s clear that Haurchefant is skilled at this. When and where he found the time to practice, Zephirin doesn’t dare ask. Instead, he allows himself to be caught up in it, accidentally lets a whimper leave his throat only to have the other smirking and kissing him harder.</p><p>Zephirin tries to push away petulantly at the smirk only to have Haurchefant wrap an arm under his neck and pull him upward.</p><p>There’s a heat building between them and he feels it right where he shouldn’t, where Halone teaches that such things should be preserved for marriage. But Haurchefant breaks the kiss and hovers over him again, looks at him with the most loving eyes and gentlest of smiles.</p><p>“Do you trust me?”</p><p>The bud that had taken root in his heart blooms.</p><p>And then he whispers, “yes.” Repeats it stronger a second time.</p><p>He cannot see himself, but he feels a rare smile, a true smile, gracing his lips. A kind of happiness he hadn’t ever felt before, like something were about to burst out of his chest.</p><p>It only turns wider when Haurchefant reflects the same look.</p><p>Surely, Halone does not watch all the time, he hopes. For he will not stop what is going to happen, will take this piece of happiness for himself before the dawn awakens. If only to hold the memory dear in his heart for long winters to come.</p><p>Haurchefant wraps his hands gently around his neck, trails chaste kisses down his jaw, slowly unlaces the top of his shirt before hands come sliding down to wrap around his shoulders. His lips pepper down to his neck and Zephirin finds himself gasping at the sensation.</p><p>“Sensitive, my dear?” Haurchefant asks, does it again just to chuckle at Zephirin scrunching his shoulders up.</p><p>Haurchefant continues his journey downwards, pushes the shirt completely off before kissing down his chest and feeling him shiver. He sits up to take his own shirt off, throwing it to the side to accompany the other’s, and unlaces his trousers. Nothing further though.</p><p>Not until Zephirin’s stops looking like he’s scandalized.</p><p>He leans down once more and takes Zephirin into a kiss, trails his hands down until they rest at his hips, and waits.</p><p>One.</p><p>Two.</p><p>Zephirin doesn’t make any move to dislodge them, only freezes for a moment before releasing a sigh between their lips.</p><p>“Tell me if it’s too much,” Haurchefant murmurs.</p><p>The other grunts back with a nod and Haurchefant continues, unlaces Zephirin’s pants and begins to tug them down along with his breeches, helping push his hips up to let them through.</p><p>He sits up and discards the items and shuffles out of his own, then kneels between Zephirin’s legs and admires.</p><p>Long and slender as he’s always been, fair pallor that hasn’t burned in the sun yet, hair light and soft. Zephirin looks up at him with a deep flush spread across his cheeks and down his neck, green eyes traveling down Haurchefant’s body in much the same admiration.</p><p>Broad, nearly as fair as he if not for the easy tan he gets during training, but there’s something about Haurchefant that makes him feel so much bigger than himself. He could never place his tongue on it, but his answer comes when Haurchefant leans down to wrap his arms around him reverently.</p><p>Like he’s something special.</p><p>Something precious.</p><p>
  <em>Someone worth loving.</em>
</p><p>And he finds himself returning the gesture, initiating the next series of kisses until he’s breathless. He hears a vial being uncorked and is about to ask Haurchefant if he had planned on this happening tonight, but his thoughts are abruptly distracted when he feels an oiled finger sliding against his hole.</p><p>He tightens up instinctually, breath caught in his throat until Haurchefant soothes him with a series of coos, tells him to relax. It takes a handful of minutes, but Haurchefant doesn’t mind, doesn’t say anything. Only when Zephirin finally releases a deflating sigh does Haurchefant push in slowly, keeps his senses sharp for any signs of discomfort.</p><p>“It feels strange,” Zephirin says, looking up at him.</p><p>“This is only the beginning,” Haurchefant reassures, “it will get better from here, my dear.”</p><p>Zephirin nods and Haurchefant peppers his cheeks with kisses before pressing a second finger in. He curls his fingers just so and Zephirin’s breath hitches. Haurchefant places a chaste kiss on his lips and repeats the movement, leaning back slightly to watch Zephirin shudder.</p><p>“It feels good there?” Haurchefant purrs, pushes again until Zephirin bites his lips and nods.</p><p>It takes some time before he can get a third finger in, but the wait is well worth it when Zephirin finally beings to unravel. The quietest of moans escapes his throat as Haurchefant thrusts his fingers and the noise only encourages him to go faster, to hear what else could come from him.</p><p>He watches black pupils dilate to over take green, red lips wet and half covered by his hand, and decides that Zephirin is ready when he closes his eyes and arches his back up with a gasp.</p><p>Haurchefant pulls his fingers out and Zephirin watches entranced as he slicks his cock with oil, guides the head to his hole.</p><p>And then, all Zephirin knows is Haurchefant, feels is Haurchefant. A hand pushes hair away from his face, another anchoring his hips down as the other slowly pushes in. His legs come to squeeze Haurchefant’s waist, overwhelmed and naturally trying to close his legs.</p><p>Haurchefant bottoms out and Zephirin feels all the wind leaving his chest, clenches down on this unfamiliar feeling inside his body.</p><p>“You feel so good, my dear,” Haurchefant moans out, slowly pulling out and pushing back in.</p><p>Zephirin bristles at the comment, finds himself gasping a breathless “there” when Haurchefant brushes against that spot inside him that makes him shiver.</p><p>Haurchefant angles his hips up until they leave the mattress and leans down to place a kiss on Zephirin’s lips. He tests out which angle makes him release those sweet sounds again.</p><p>And then, Zephirin is moaning into Haurchefant’s mouth, noises swallowed as soon as they come. His fingers dig into Haurchefant’s back, legs come to hook at the ankles, toes curling in pleasure as Haurchefant pounds into him. Haurchefant leaves words of encouragement between pants, lips smashed together and occasionally teeth nipping.</p><p>Zephirin finds himself lost in an abyss as he cries out into Haurchefant’s mouth with each thrust, saliva dripping down his chin messily. Haurchefant makes a grand movement and breaks the kiss momentarily to pry Zephirin’s leg off of him, only to push them back with his arms until he’s folded in half and Zephirin cries into the next kiss, writhes and squeezes around Haurchefant like his life depends on it.</p><p>It feels so good.</p><p>So full.</p><p>
  <em>So loved.</em>
</p><p>Haurchefant never breaks in his pace, moves his lips up his cheekbones and to the bottom of his ear, just behind it, before sucking on the sensitive skin.</p><p>He shudders and a loud moan escapes his lips, uncovered, and he flushes deeper if that were possible. Haurchefant only relishes in the noise, continues playing with the spot until Zephirin keens and squirms beneath him.</p><p>He picks his head up and just takes some time to watch. Zephirin is nothing but wanton in his arms. Legs up, lips swollen, and eyes half lidded and clouded with pleasure. Haurchefant places a peck on his mouth before trailing a series down his jaw until he reaches his neck once more.</p><p>He licks a stripe up his neck and Zephirin turns his head to give him more access, squeezing down on him with a desperate moan.</p><p>And Haurchefant does it once, twice, and a third time before Zephirin is crying into his arms, body shaking as he climaxes in Haurchefant’s arms, tears leaking down his temples and disappearing into his hair as he moans and gasps.</p><p>Haurchefant follows shortly after, muffled against Zephirin’s neck until he’s empty.</p><p>He pulls out gently and lets Zephirin’s legs down, carefully prying his arms off his neck until he’s flat on the bed. A hand wraps itself around his wrist and Haurchefant places a kiss on Zephirin’s forehead, and says he’ll be right back.</p><p>He looks around to find a loose cloth and settles on a handkerchief hanging from Zephirin’s chair. With a splash of water from a canteen, he dampens it and returns to wipe them both down.</p><p>Once finished, he pulls the blanket to cover their shoulders and finds himself surprised when Zephirin immediately rolls onto his side and clings to him.</p><p>Haurchefant smiles and runs a hand down his back, kisses his forehead once more, and tucks Zephirin’s head against his shoulder.</p><p>He waits until Zephirin stops shaking and for his breathing to even out before he allows himself to rest.</p><p>Come morning, they wake in each others’ arms and Zephirin takes his breath away in one fell swoop with a sleepy smile and a chaste kiss.</p><p>They get up as slowly as they can without being late, kisses stolen left and right as they get ready and dress themselves.</p><p>Despite this sunny start to their relationship, Zephirin feels a chill of winter in his chest as each minute passes. It starts as a light snowfall, steadily growing in power, until his chest feels like it’s frosted over when a cadet comes around telling them that it’s time to go.</p><p>He doesn’t realize when it shatters, but Haurchefant has both hands on his face, thumbs gently rubbing under his eyes to wipe away tears before they can fall.</p><p>It’s not fair, he thinks, swallows a lump in his throat as he stares at bright blue eyes. He had only just obtained one of the happiest moments in his life and now it’s being taken from him.</p><p>“Oh, do not look at me so,” Haurchefant places a kiss under each eye, “a smile better suits you, my dear.”</p><p>Zephirin simply thrusts himself forward until Haurchefant has no choice but to hold him properly. A hand runs down his back and Haurchefant presses his cheek against his head, reminds him that Camp Dragonhead is only a ride away, and that he will still be with him in spirit.</p><p>Even though he nods and knows this to be true, Zephirin cannot stop the longing already building in his chest.</p><p>His tears are quickly dried when the cadet runs by again for last call and the two rush out to the carriages.</p><p>Zephirin stands alongside his fellow commanders, graces him with a small smile when Haurchefant excitedly waves goodbye before catching up to the group leaving.</p><p><em>Splendid,</em> Haurchefant thinks as he replays the smile in his head.</p><p>-</p><p>They don’t see each other for a month. Busy they are with learning their new roles and leading their men. It appeases Zephirin’s mind to know that Haurchefant is having a grand time in the highlands, according to the most recent letter he has received.</p><p>He does not yet know exactly how to label their relationship, but he feels foolish for this…this long infatuation he has had with his dear friend. How he can envision him accompanying him throughout the day, how he can imagine what he would say in certain situations, how he yearns for him in the safety of his room, gazing out the window at the pale moon’s light.</p><p>And no matter how silly this infatuation is, it doesn’t stop the excitement that rushes through him when a missive arrives from Camp Dragonhead. It’s not that he expects a letter (they are both busy with their commands, after all) but the euphoria that rushes through him when his hopes are answered are enough to fuel him through the cold nights.</p><p>Today, there is no letter. Before he can wallow in disappointment, his superior calls them for a meeting.</p><p>Talks with Camp Dragonhead.</p><p>A representative of the commanders needed.</p><p>Zephirin immediately volunteers himself, hopes he doesn’t give away how eager he is for the opportunity.</p><p>Not even three hours later, the sun brimming on the horizon, Zephirin steps into the intercessory of Camp Dragonhead with a deep bow.</p><p>Haurchefant’s jaw drops and he’s slow to pick it up as their attention turns to the commander of the stronghold. The commander nods and Zephirin takes a seat across from him; across from Haurchefant, and nary spares him a glance.</p><p>Their meeting is straight to the point, no frivolities, just like he likes it, and it ends just as quickly as it begins. They will send more supplies to Camp Dragonhead along with another set of knights to hold the fortress against a growing number of heretics.</p><p>The night grows ever darker and flames flicker in their lanterns. Zephirin graciously accepts the offer of a room and Haurchefant is quick to jump and volunteer himself to guide their guests to their room.</p><p>With a stern bow, they head out of the intercessory and to the barracks.</p><p>To Haurchefant’s chambers.</p><p>The door barely has time to lock before Haurchefant pushes him against it with a surprisingly soft kiss. If Zephirin had anything swirling in his mind before this, it is all but forgotten in the heat of the moment.</p><p>A buckle here, laces there, soon skin meets skin as they stumble back towards the bed.</p><p>Haurchefant whispers sweet nothings in his ear, squeezes at him until he knows they’ll bruise, and Zephirin relishes in each touch, meets him back with the same fervor until they’re a quaking mess against each other.</p><p>When all is done and he finds himself in Haurchefant’s arms once more, the blankets drawn over them, and the currents in his mind finally calmed, does he dare to ask.</p><p>“You are serious about this relationship between us?” He internally winces at his wording and tone, but he had not known how else to say it.</p><p>He expects a chuckle, a quirk of the lips, but he receives none of those things.</p><p>Haurchefant turns, eyes focused solely on him, a weight in the air reflective of his conviction.</p><p>“Never would I lie about my feelings, my dear.” He begins, brings a hand up to gently rub against Zephirin’s cheek.</p><p>“If you would have me, I would brace against Halone herself for you.”</p><p>Zephirin feels his breath stolen from him. His chest tightens, yet feels like it’s about to burst at any moment. He gazes into an endless ocean of blue eyes but doesn’t find himself in any danger of drowning.</p><p>“Yes,” he croaks out, throat suddenly dry, and pulls Haurchefant closer until they’re nose to nose, lips nearly touching.</p><p><em>“Yes,”</em> he whispers.</p><p>-</p><p>Their lives continue in a similar fashion. Absence makes the heart fonder, his mother had told him as a child when his father was away at war. He’s not sure if he fully believes it. His heart surely aches and yearns more often than it felt those highs when he could see Haurchefant.</p><p>He wonders, vaguely, if the other also felt the same intensity as he did, but quickly brushes the thought off. Of course he did. Haurchefant had companions to distract the ache; of that he was sure.</p><p>Zephirin had companions. Some. Although they were not to be inside of Ishgard lest he tarnish his reputation. But that means that he does not see them often. Nearly less so than he sees Haurchefant.</p><p>The Temple Knights see him as a stern superior, a man deserving of his title yet fear him at the same time. He is not particularly amicable with Aymeric, who is often encouraging their men, and seen with his shadow, Estinien, after training. Zephirin is the youngest of the commanding line and his superiors stand high above him in age and chatter.</p><p>And so, he finds himself spending days and nights by his lonesome. He is early to rise and early to bed, ever on routine so that his mind is ever clear and his body in peak condition. As for the nights that his heart particularly aches, he rereads the letters to soothe him so. To lull himself to sleep by pretending to read these letters of which he knows by heart already.</p><p>Some nights, when he feels particularly depraved and his dignity tucked away, he likes to pretend that Haurchefant is there with him.</p><p>He prays that Halone isn’t looking.</p><p>-</p><p>Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, and they both find time to spend a week together to celebrate yet another year with one another.</p><p>Haurchefant gifts him with a scarf for Starlight, made of the finest wool and silk and dyed a fair green to ‘match his eyes’ he had said. A fine coat had made its way into his arms later the same day, a gift for his name day, often overlooked for the holiday. Snow white and brushing past his knee, Haurchefant is simply delighted to see how it accentuates all his best features.</p><p>Zephirin isn’t sure to be delighted or exasperated when Haurchefant pulls out a matching coat for himself in a tan color, but it shouldn’t be too obvious if it’s the current Ishgardian fashion.</p><p>Regardless, Zephirin had spent weeks upon end gathering gifts for Haurchefant’s Starlight gift, commissioning leatherworkers and culinarians for the perfect night. House Valhourdin was empty, servants gone for their own families and his own immediate family itself gone to a soiree at his cousin’s manor.</p><p>They had dined on the most spectacular foods, not even sitting at the dining room proper to instead sit on the carpet by a makeshift table by the fire. Looking back at it, everything had been so terribly romantic, like some maiden’s favored novel, but Zephirin had been so warm that night and surrounded by a shield to which he could express himself without worry.</p><p>Haurchefant had adored his gift, a pair of leather gloves to replace and carry with him for years to come. Weeks later Haurchefant had coming raving to him about how they withheld a mighty blow by a sword and hadn’t ripped at all. Zephirin smiled smugly at him, pleased with himself.</p><p>And now, already months after that Starlight, they lay together on their vacation, nestled under the blanket and tangled as another winter marks the passage of time.</p><p>Zephirin rests his head on the pillow, Haurchefant’s arm under him to support his neck as they simply bask in each other’s presence. It’s now that Zephirin whispers to him, excitement barely concealed in his tone.</p><p>“They are selecting a new Lord Commander soon,” he squeezes Haurchefant’s arm, “I am being considered for the position.”</p><p>Haurchefant is nothing but overtly excited for him, wrapping his other arm around him tightly to squeeze him until he’s gasping for air.</p><p>“That’s wonderful! When will they announce it?” Haurchefant lets him settle back onto the bed, hand sliding up to cup the back of his neck and pull him forward for a peck.</p><p>“There will be a banquet in a few weeks time. If my speculations are correct, it will be then.” Zephirin responds back with a kiss of his own. “I know you dislike such events as these…”</p><p>“But I will be there all the same,” Haurchefant finishes. “I suppose I will need to sort out an outfit fitting for the occasion…”</p><p>Zephirin smiles and swipes his thumb against Haurchefant’s cheek, “leave that to me.”</p><p>-</p><p>The night of the banquet, Zephirin feels anxious. A constant thrum rakes through his body with each minute that passes, with each lord that greets him and wishes him the best.</p><p>He arrives at the event first with the other Temple Knights, watches as each family is announced inside. His own family arrives and buzzes around him excitedly until he’s embarrassed and he urges them to say hello to their fellow nobles. He makes chatter with the ladies that come up to him, nodding his head and barely building up the energy to grace them with the scantest of smiles to be polite.</p><p>He doesn’t get a reprieve until the Fortemps arrive, immediately being swarmed by several houses. Zephirin watches from the edge of the ballroom as Haurchefant, who had been standing behind his family, slips away into the crowd. He chuckles to himself, leaning against a pillar. As if Haurchefant could hide when his hair was a shocking shade of tinged silver.</p><p>He follows that head around the ballroom, watches how Haurchefant immediately picks up the young Haillenarte boy and nearly squeeze the life out of him before they both burst out in laughter. He finds his heartbeat calming down at the sight, a soft smile gracing his features where it had been clenched for the past hour.</p><p>Haurchefant is quick to locate his other knight friends. A pat on the back here, a hug there. If Zephirin had to admit it, he would say that there was a semblance of jealousy to see how amicable his lover was.</p><p>It’s not until Haurchefant reaches Borel and Wrymblood, the latter recently promoted to the Azure Dragoon, that Zephirin feels anxiety bubbling back into his chest.</p><p>The dragoon is as grumpy as ever, arms crossed and lips curved into a frown as he stands beside Zephirin’s fellow commander. Haurchefant and Aymeric are friends and it does not escape Zephirin’s thoughts that Haurchefant is rooting for the both of them for the title of Lord Commander.</p><p>A voice deep inside of him hopes that Haurchefant has been cheering for him more than his friend, but Zephirin has been careful to staunch the thought so that it never sees the light of day. He has no reason to be worried when he has proven his worth time and time again.</p><p>
  <em>And yet.</em>
</p><p>The thought doesn’t slow his heartbeat nor admonish the tight energy churning in his chest, even when Haurchefant finally makes his way over to him with two flutes of champagne in his hands.</p><p>Zephirin nods and gives him a tight smile, nearly worries him with the way he nearly swallows his whole glass in one chug.</p><p>“My dear-”</p><p>“The jacket suits you well,” Zephirin cuts him off with a wave of a hand, looks him up and down at the fine tailoring. Classically Ishgardian with it’s furs and wool, the semi-long jacket cuts his figure wonderfully with how it tightens around his chest and flutters out from the waist down.</p><p>“You look even better,” Haurchefant follows suit, ignoring the sharp cut to his concern previously. It is clear that Zephirin is nervous by the way he clenches the stem of his glass, the twinge in his smile, and the tightening of his jaw. Not that many would notice he were any different to his usual expression. Zephirin is dressed similarly to the rest of the Temple Knight commanders, ceremonial coats cut immaculately with all the frivolities that come with being a commander of the group.</p><p>“But,” Haurchefant leans close to him, “you look good in everything you wear, my dear.”</p><p>Zephirin snorts and Haurchefant chuckles playfully, “relax, you will cause a scene should you break your glass with all your might.”</p><p>Zephirin unclenches his hand from the glass with a short sigh, but his shoulders remain tightly wound. Haurchefant looks around them before pushing Zephirin behind the pillar he’s leaning against and taking both of his hands in his, champagne flutes clinking together.</p><p>He doesn’t say anymore, simply holds him as boldly as he dares at this public function, and grounds him before his anxiety can swallow him up.</p><p>Zephirin isn’t sure how long they stand like that, breathing, but a commotion from the crowd has them pulling away and coming round to join the event.</p><p>The Lord Commander, soon to pass on his title, stands at the head of the room, and gives a speech that Zephirin barely registers despite hanging onto every word.</p><p>“A toast, to Ishgard’s newest Lord Commander,” he beckons, raising his glass.</p><p>Zephirin sees his mouth move but he can’t seem to catch what he has said.</p><p>His vision tunnels and he leans back on his heel just the slightest.</p><p>His breath leaves him and there’s an ache in his chest that spreads through his whole body.</p><p>The name that leaves his lips isn’t Zephirin’s.</p><p>And,</p><p>
  <em>oh,</em>
</p><p>he feels numb.</p><p>He fights and claws to keep his expression neutral as Aymeric steps up amongst the cheers of his peers (and the grumbles of the nobility) with a smile that could light up the room. He focuses on Aymeric, his rival, as he gives a congratulatory speech for formalities sake, and entirely misses the way Haurchefant looks at him in concern, tries to get his attention with a discrete tug on his sleeve.</p><p>Another round of toasts passes through and Zephirin grits his way through a barrage of condolences from the noble crowd. He takes it all with a nod, responding in kind and thanking them for their thoughts. He crosses by Aymeric and it feels as if all eyes are on them, waiting with bated breath at what will conspire.</p><p>If they are looking for gossip, they will find none here.</p><p>Aymeric gives him a strained smile, seemingly at a loss for words for once. Their gazes barely meet.</p><p>Zephirin gives him a nod and grunts out something that semblances a practiced congratulatory sentenced.</p><p>Whatever he says seems to appease the other man and they both move on. He bids his family an early leave and waves off their condolences to send them back to the party, setting his glass onto a table.</p><p>It’s not until he’s several yalms away from the banquet that he jumps in surprise when a hand rests against the small of his back.</p><p>“Haurchefant?” He nearly gasps when he looks over.</p><p>“You are alright?” The other furrows his brows in concern, guides them back towards the Congregation.</p><p>“I-” Zephirin’s throat tightens up, he bites his lip.</p><p>Haurchefant shushes him and they walk in silence, the evening breeze of Ishgard nipping at his cheeks as a sharp reminder of what he has lost tonight.</p><p>His ire only builds from there.</p><p>They settle into his room at the Congregation and Haurchefant urges him to speak his mind lest he drown in his thoughts. Whether it’s of his own volition or the champagne flowing through his body he isn’t sure, but his thoughts begin to leak out uncontrollably.</p><p>He speaks as if he is telling Haurchefant.</p><p>In reality, he is talking to himself.</p><p>At the tender age of twenty and nine winters, he is the youngest commander that the Temple Knights have seen.</p><p>He has been with the knights longer, served and commanded longer. Never has he used his nobility to his favor, earned his place amongst them with his skill alone.</p><p>And for what?</p><p>To lose the besotted position because Aymeric had cheated?</p><p>Had pulled some strings along the line, curried to people and sullied himself to take the position straight from him?</p><p>Born a bastard, raised a bastard, will always be a bastar-</p><p>“Zephirin.”</p><p>He freezes in his pacing and turns to Haurchefant who’s sitting on the bed.</p><p>“I-”</p><p>“Is this what you think of bastards?”</p><p>“No,” he stutters, “No, I did not mean-”</p><p>Haurchefant stands from the bed and walks up to him. Even if they are the same height now, he feels dwarfed by him in the moment. Perhaps it’s the crushing weight of his mistake pulling him down.</p><p>“Please,” he begs breathlessly, “forgive me.”</p><p>Haurchefant presses his lips tight, brows furrowing ever so slightly, his heart ever on his sleeve.</p><p>And Zephirin is struck by a fear he hasn’t felt in ages. It’s cold to the point that it burns his body. Haurchefant takes a step back, or does he? He isn’t sure. But his hand darts forward to grab Haurchefant’s sleeve. Not his arm, he doesn’t deserve to touch him after this folly. But he wants to so much. Needs it.</p><p>“Forgive me,” he whispers, looks down at his arm which shakes from how tightly he grips Haurchefant’s sleeve.</p><p><em>Please don’t leave</em>, he prays internally, swallows the knot stuck in his throat, tries to ward off the way his mind insists that Haurchefant will leave him now that he has finally messed up, that he’s too cold for Haurchefant’s warmth.</p><p>That he is unworthy.</p><p>Unworthy for the title of Lord Commander.</p><p>Unworthy of being loved.</p><p>Haurchefant is amicable with everyone and thrives amongst the people where Zephirin prefers to stew by his lonesome. Haurchefant is so loving where Zephirin has to staunch moments of jealousy. Haurchefant-</p><p>“Zephirin.”</p><p>A hand comes to gently wrap around his wrist and he pulls back, spooked.</p><p>Scared. That his icy chill will extinguish a bright flame.</p><p>He must prevent that from happening.</p><p>“You can go,” he finds himself saying, a twinge of bitterness nipping at the corner of his lips. “You should go back and celebrate with your friends.”</p><p>
  <em>Not with me.</em>
</p><p>“Not when you look like that, my dear.” Haurchefant pulls him close, struggling as he is, into his chest and wraps his arms around him.</p><p>Zephirin clutches his shoulders tightly and lets out a shuddering sigh against his neck, desperately blinking away the wetness building upon his lashes. A hand comes to rest gently on his head and begins rubbing slowly.</p><p>Something inside him breaks and he whispers out a mantra of <em>I’m sorry.</em></p><p>Haurchefant shushes him and turns to nuzzle his head, other hand drawing circles against his back.</p><p>
  <em>I forgive you.</em>
</p><p>-</p><p>The next morning, he untangles himself from Haurchefant’s arms and makes his way to the Congregation. Haurchefant returned to House Fortemps to bid farewell to his family, promising to circle back afterwards.</p><p>The tall doors creak open and he’s immediately swallowed by the warmth of the fires roaring. One of the men direct him into a meeting room where a guest is waiting.</p><p>“Ah, Ser Zephirin.”</p><p>He barely has time to conceal his surprise upon seeing who stands in the room.</p><p>White and blue armor. A lance that pierces into the heavens. A familiar symbol emblazoned across the chest plate.</p><p>He immediately gives a deep bow and stands at attention.</p><p>“Ser Vellguine.”</p><p>
  <em>The Second-in-Command of the Heavens’ Ward.</em>
</p><p>“To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fall into HaurcheZeph jail with me on twitter @incorrectelezen or @mechewchew :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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